


New Year's Resolution

by Destinyawakened, orphan_account



Series: Will Graham's A Series of Unfortunate Holidays [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Blood Play, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cannibalism, Dead Body, Dinner Parties, Domination, Drinking, Fireworks, Hannigram - Freeform, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Injections, M/M, Murder, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Sex, Stabbing, Violence, au hannigram, little more santa crack, medical kinks, new year's eve fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:46:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyawakened/pseuds/Destinyawakened, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mall Cop Will Graham was kidnapped by the Mall Santa, Hannibal Lecter, after sharing a sexual moment on Santa's throne. When Will comes to, it's dinner party time on New Year's Eve. And yes, meat is on the menu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> 1)Not beta'd, sorry, all mistakes are our own  
> 2) Hey, it's a series now, [take a look](http://archiveofourown.org/series/379303)  
> 3) sequel to: [Make the Yuletide Gay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5430266)  
> 4)Written in RP format, apologies for weird jumps back and forth.

Dreams and nightmares clouded his judgement for days, maybe it was even weeks. Fragments and pictures of the Mall Santa Claus, the man that had entrapped him somehow, and taken him almost brutally in his lap. There were figments of that moment, passionate and powerful, that shifted into dreary and dark things, clouded by thoughts of death and dying, and sometimes screaming. Only the screams never left his mouth. Sometimes, there was even a devious looking wendigo, a figure he had yet to place, but he was sure he’d be getting there soon enough. If he could just _push_ through to the surface, up through the thick fog that was clouding his mind.

 

Several times he tried, but was pushed back down with gentle push and guiding words that muffled into nothing in his mind, and then blank blackness enveloped him.

 

Finally, Will Graham came to - groggy and disorientated- blinking drugged blue eyes until his vision cleared enough to see the dim, candlelit table, with fancy plates and silverware donning three spaces, intimately. A few more blinks and Will was able to make out the long table, and the wine glasses. Other senses came back to him little by little, his sense of smell catching the lingering scent of food, warm and lush, and as warm as the room around him.

 

Trying to move his body, he found he was restricted, and not because he couldn't move his limbs - they were capable now- but because he was _tied_ down to the chair he was seated in. Will’s head rolled to the side, looking down at his hands, gripped tight to polished wood arms chairs, rope over his arms and keeping him snugly in place. To add insult to injury, he was dressed elegantly in slacks and button up shirt, of cloth he could never afford, and he definitely did not buy at Sears.

 

“What the fuck?” he slurred, his mouth barely able to get the words out, his tongue dry and mouth cotton-like as his body started to come back to reality.

 

Hannibal was putting the last touches on the flower arrangement at the centre of the table when his _guest_ finally came to. He turned his head towards the brunet and raised an eyebrow, “Language, William. That rude mouth of yours...” he _almost_ tutted as he moved to check the binds around Will.  
  
“Careful, the more you move, the tighter they become.” Powerful and deft hands moved over the ropes and Will’s straining muscles. As he checked the binds around his shoulders, Hannibal leaned in and scented up Will’s neck, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. _Delicious._  
  
After everything is checked, twice, he kissed Will’s forehead lightly “Happy New Year, Will. Since you _slept_ through Christmas you can have your present tonight,” Hannibal nodded to the end of the table where Will’s boss, Jack, sat legless, drugged into a light stupor and terrified. “I thought it fitting consider how incredibly rude he has been to you.”  
  
There was so much going through his mind as Hannibal spoke, and as sluggish as it is, he was slow going on all the points, but 'Happy New Years' was the first to break through the fog, and Will felt himself reel a little as the next words 'slept through Christmas' made him feel sick, realizing, inevitably, he'd been drugged and kept under.

 

There was no 'sleeping'.

 

His sea blue glare burned into Hannibal, a dazed retort on his tongue as the rest because very clear and his eyes focus on the other side of the table, just barely. The figure of a dark skinned man started to come into focus.

 

"Jack?"

 

Oh, God. Oh Fuck. This was... bad. Hannibal was _bad_. How had he not _realized_ this?

 

No, no. He _had_ , but like all the others he failed to _do_ anything about it.

 

Hannibal leaned back as he righted his dark shirt and vest. Canting his head he drank in Will’s rage. _Beautiful._ Smiling he turned toward the other end of the table, “Yes, Jack. Two birds with one stone, I believe the saying goes.”  Hannibal started to pour champagne, “I do hope you enjoy roast, Will. I have prepared quite the feast for us to welcome in the New Year together.” Hannibal turned from view and rummaged in a small leather case. Turning back he held up another needle and tapped out the air bubble before injecting Will’s tri-cep. “This should help with any nausea.” Once finished he set the needle aside with the rest of the spent medical supplies.  
  
“I am going to untie your arm now, Will.” Hannibal brushed down his stubbled cheek before leaning down to whisper against _that_ erotic spot he had discovered behind the younger man’s ear as they had fucked on Santa’s throne, “and you are not going to do anything _naughty_ are you?” Hannibal grinned before kissing and biting down Will’s jaw while his hands slipped off the knots around his wrist. Before Will could do anything Hannibal snatched his hand and kissed his palm. He then handed him some champagne. “Because if you were to be _naughty_ I would need to _punish_ you.” Hannibal changed his tone and demeanour from something light and charming to utterly predatory and dark, “That goes for both of you, Jack.”  
  
Walking to the other end of the table Hannibal proceeded to do the same to Jack minus the intimacy. Once both Jack and Will had their glasses Hannibal stood beside Will and raised his glass, “A toast, to a delicious,” Hannibal nods at Jack and then turned to face Will, giving him all his attention, “and wickedly good year ahead that may only beget more,” he leaned and whispered into Will’s ear, “utter depravity for naughty boys as the years flow on.”

 

Everything was starting to come together as his mind woke up more, as his settings became clearer, and as Jack's state of stupor and horror was realized in his full potential. Hannibal had _cooked_ him, and was serving him up on a platter for Will as the man was kept alive, for now, to see it.

 

Nausea hit hard, but whatever Hannibal put in him helped, and he found himself sickly panting with dry mouth, trying not to seethe. He moved, testing his restraints only to find that Hannibal words about them were true, they were just getting tighter with every movement he made.

 

But, just like that, his hand was untied, he was _trusted_ , and holding a champagne glass, and _toasting_. Hannibal's lips were felt on his skin even after he was gone, and the younger man watched him with a renewed lust that just made him even _more_ angry.

 

He downed the drink after a few second of trying to get his strength back after being immobilized, wetting his mouth and tongue thoroughly. Jack just seemed to shake his glass, slipping the liquid over his fingers. Will wondered if Hannibal had given the man something to leave him mute like this. It was very… un-Jack like.

 

Will's jaw tensed, a heated knowing in his spine told him that running or attempting to would only end with _him_ as the main course, and as kinky as that sounded, he didn't want _actually_ be eaten.

 

He let out a shallow groan, body responding to Hannibal's words and ministrations, but anger was bubbling up again, his eyes growing more focused and more aware by the second.

 

Turning his head, he glared at Hannibal, blue meeting dark amber.

 

Hannibal closed his eyes, a low growl scratching up through his chest to meet Will’s groans. It took all the cannibal’s resolve not to take him there and then, bound as he was, it didn’t matter to Hannibal. In fact, Will look positively indecent and irresistible wrapped in rope. The idea of having the younger man bound and unable to move beneath him as he took him wholly sent a hot chill down Hannibal’s spine that twitched through to his cock.  
  
Hannibal let his hand trail along the back of the chair, brushing between Will’s shoulder blades.  
  
But he could see anger was clouding those sea-blue eyes.  
  
A wry smile tugged at Hannibal’s lips but he caught it and drowned it with a dark knowing and determination; a finality that was expressed in the grit of his jaw and tilt of his head. Having scented Will earlier he caught the thick waves of lust still rolling off him, along with his rage. Both of which he had been counting on to have New Year’s Eve go off with a bang.

 

He set his own glass down, “Horderve, Will?” he offered a raw oyster with salt and lemon, daring him to challenge him. His eyes narrowed just _slightly._ A game. A test of wills.

 

Will was tethered with rope and had glass in hand. If he _wanted_ , he could cut himself free but he was quite right, he would _risk_ being hunted down and devoured in a way that was far less pleasurable than Hannibal had planned for this evening.

 

“Feed it to me,” Will said, defiantly, all his senses and words coming back to him now, and even though he was growing harder with every movement and word Hannibal said, he would not go down without a fight this time.

 

He opened his lips, chin tilted up slightly to take the the slimy thing into his mouth.

 

Hannibal brought the oyster to within an inch of Will’s lips. One, large hand gripping Will’s jaw to steady him. “Say ‘please’.” Hannibal stood over Will as he started to tilt his head back ready to swallow the slimy thing whole. As their gazes locked, he brushed the rough shell over his soft lips, teasing him with the taste of the salty sea.

 

Will parted his lips a little as he looked up at Hannibal, "Please." His sea blue gaze grew darker with each passing moment, with the tease of saltiness on his lips, awaiting the slimy thing to be passed into his mouth and down his throat.

 

The _idea_ was tantalizing, and made Will's eyes blow darker with lust.

 

Hannibal ran a rough hand through Will’s hair as he watched him swallow, “Good boy,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed the taste of salt off his lips.  
  
Pulling back Hannibal reached for another oyster and leaned his head back taking the oyster in his mouth. He then turned and kissed the salty sliminess between Will’s lips and into his mouth as he tugged on dark curls even harder.

 

All the while Hannibal was aware Will still gripped the empty champagne glass. Indeed, he let his muscular thigh press against Will’s hand, tempting him one way or another.

 

Will watched Hannibal take the oyster, swallow it, and then eagerly tasted his mouth for the rest of it lingering there. He knew he shouldn't want this, he should be angry, but he had the feeling Hannibal _liked_ that about him. Surly and rude, boiling with unhinged anger.

 

The slimy nature of the oyster had Will's thought tainted with lust, licking his lips and Hannibal alike at the thought, head canted up to take in a deeper kiss. His hand clenched around the champagne flute, the stem breaking in half, cutting his hand in the process. He took the glass and shoved it into Hannibal's thigh.

 

He might not get out of this, but he wasn’t going quietly.

 

Hannibal hissed at the sudden sharp pain but it was far from unexpected. His eyes flew open and looked down at Will’s - a moment of silent and furious passion, lips and tongues still moving and sliding over one another. Not even the bite of sharp cutting glass could break their kiss no matter how much anger spiked.

 

He leaned down and snatched Will’s wrist in a bruising grip. He stepped over Will’s legs, sitting down and straddling him as blood ran freely down his leg, soaking his sock and dripping on to the carpet.

 

The weight of him would be putting tension on the ropes and tightening the hold on Will. Hannibal looked at the sharp and blood stained glass in his hand and back at Will, “Rude,” he growled and licked against his ear as he began to rut - each motion tightening the ropes that bit more.

 

Hannibal could tell by the way he wielded the glass Will was a smart man, he would know that the wound from the glass wouldn’t disable Hannibal in any significant way. It was enough to make a point but it was clear, they were both hungry for each other’s darkness and rage. And Hannibal, being the consummate host, was happy to dish it out in droves.

 

In one swift movement Hannibal stood up, leaving Will hard, wanting and wounded - blood ran down his palm, over the glass and on to the floor.

 

Leaving the room and coming back only moments later, Hannibal had a small bowl of warm water, antiseptic, bandages and tweezers. Going down on his knees in front of Will he proceeded to very gently and quickly remove the shattered glass from the worn skin of his palm. Washing the wound down Hannibal started to bandage his hand and stem the bleeding there. It was all done with surgical precision but as he finished the look he offered Will was nothing short of tender.

 

Returning to standing, Hannibal ran a hand through sandy grey hair and straightened his shirt as he looked towards Jack speaking as if nothing had happened; “For main course we have Twice Cooked Roast _Pork_ with apple and cinnamon puree and a medley of roast vegetables. I will also be serving a side of Waldorf Salad.” He gave a slight nod and left to dispose of the medical supplies and go to the kitchen, returning only moments later with perfectly dressed and presented plates. The room started to fill with mouthwatering scents of perfectly prepared gourmet food.

 

Will's breath tensed with his body as lust and pain alike took over, tight ropes cutting into his skin with each lewd rut of Hannibal's groin against his own. Try as he might there was just no denying his attraction to the darkness around ‘Santa’.

 

He watched as the regal man stood again, as though having glass shoved into his thigh was an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was. Will knew nothing about this man aside from the month long business relationship they shared at the mall- if you could call it that.

 

Looking over at Jack's wrenched, almost angry looking face, Will almost laughed at the whole situation. Santa the cannibal, and he'd brought Will a late Christmas gift. He really needed a stronger drink.

 

“Smells divine,” Will quipped through gritted teeth, the tightness of the ropes playing a vital part in his discomfort, as was his unattended growing erection.

 

Hannibal only glanced down at Will’s growing arousal before placing the dishes down, his cool expression gave nothing away. As he worked on slicing up the meat for both Will and Jack - the latter who seemed to be growing greener by the second, Hannibal simply stated with a slight nod of his head and a warm smile; “I can assure you, it will taste even better.”  
  
He walked down to the other end of the table and set a plate before Jack, “Now, don’t be rude. Be sure to finish all that is on your plate. Afterall, this recipe is especially for you.”

 

Turning back to Will, with no doubt his orders to Jack would be followed without question, he set a plate down in front of the younger man. Ignoring the glass baring hand Hannibal picked up a slice of meat with a long silver fork and brought it to Will’s lips. He gave one, thoroughly indiscrete look down towards WIll’s groin before focusing back on his soft, pink lips and the meat hovering there.

 

Every piece of Will that felt disgusted, but also felt turned on in ways he wish he hadn't. Hannibal had cooked _his_ boss for him; hunted him down and amputated him to be eaten. It was romantic, and a homicidal, cannibalistic sort of way. Will would have been more flattered if he were tied to a chair and missing nearly three weeks of his life.

 

Not to mention, he'd been dressed for the occasion.

 

Someone didn't understand personal space very well, and Will was certain now was _not_ the time to mention it.

 

He'd long since dropped the rest of the glass when his hand was bandaged, the message had been sent and Hannibal received, but not it was the other man's turn to send one back. Eat his boss or risk being forced to. Sea blue caught dark amber again, and Will opened his mouth to take in the bite, slowly, tongue working over the fork prongs in lithe motions.

 

Hannibal’s amber eyes widened as he buried a deep groan that threatened to escape while Will’s tongue worked over the silver like that. He resisted the urge to bend down and bite that sweet, pink muscle clean off. But there were far better ways to make use of it before he did anything like that.

 

Taking his seat at the table next to Will, Hannibal smiled at them both before lifting his own slice of meat and working his sculptured lips and long, adept tongue over the silver, just the same. He sucked the juices off the fork in a slow, languid movement. He didn’t keep eye contact with anyone, he was sure Will would be watching regardless.

 

After taking a few more bites Hannibal once again addressed the room more than anyone in particular. He spoke in an even, warm tone that had lilting European notes rounding off the vowels, “It is coming up to ten, a little late for dinner I must apologize. But that gives you approximately two hours, Will, to make your decision.” he picked up his napkin and dabbed his mouth before turning to face the younger man.  
  
“I have gone to great lengths to provide you with both a feast and a gift. You have the choice of unwrapping your gift and ensuring your freedom,” his eyes glanced over a nearby hunting knife and back towards Jack who was mute with horror where he sat, “or, I will simply unwrap you both. And sadly, I cannot promise it will be either quick or painless.”  
  
Hannibal let that sink in as he cleared away the plates. He grinned broadly as he noted how much Jack had eaten, “It seems your vastly sized ego was not without some reason. But then, I do have a habit of bringing out the best in people.”  
  
After a short while in the kitchen, Hannibal returned with more champagne and a wicked glint in his eye. He poured both Jack and Will fresh glasses of champagne and handed them out with nod and a smile. Hannibal then moved behind Will’s chair and using both hands turned it around to face the large windows that overlooked the bay. Although for now, they just shone with inky blackness.

 

“When midnight comes, the horizon will glow with fireworks.” As Hannibal spoke he hitched up his pants and sank to his knees in front of Will. “Because you have been such a _very good_ boy, I have decided to give you some extra incentive as you think over your decision.”

 

Everything was quiet when Hannibal left, and Will sighed as he watched Jack, trying to picture himself as a murderer-- a man who take that hunting knife, very much like one he used to gut fish and hunt deer-- and slide into Jack's belly, or across his throat.

 

Then there was another glass pressed into his hand, this one he didn't intend to break, it had been clear that Hannibal could take quite a lot and if Will wanted to live, battle wounds were not the way to go.

 

Killing Jack Crawford was, however.

 

He brought the glass to his lips, watching Hannibal with some disinterest as he sank down in front of him, no longer bleeding, Will noted.

 

"How's that?"

 

Hannibal tugged the ropes hard, forcing them all to tighten and restrict around Will, “Still so coy,” he murmured. With each ankle fastened to a chair leg, Will’s legs were parted just enough so that Hannibal could brush one, long hand under the ropes and slowly up the inside of his thighs, parting them just that bit more.  
  
Hannibal’s gaze was watching Will carefully and the second he went to twitch or writhe he warned, “Remember, the more you move, the tighter they become.” He looked at the ropes that were already cutting deep welts into his left arm.

 

His elegant fingers moved closer to Will’s groin, the radiating heat and straining hardness now painfully obvious. His fingers toyed with the soft, linen seam before finally, a single finger teased over the zipper line with feather-light strokes. As he started to tug at the button of Will’s pants Hannibal mused, “I wonder, what fireworks will Jack be privy to tonight?” before leaning down to bite the inside of Will’s thigh.

  
Will swallowed heavily, glass still in hand, almost forgotten about, as he watched Hannibal tease and taunt him with long, elegant fingers that he distinctly remembered being all over him weeks ago. He couldn't even remember now when he'd been taken.

 

"You'd make him watch?" Will asked, a scowl on his face that was trying not to enjoy the touches, but his body was reacting far more keen to them.

 

Hannibal slowly unzipped Will’s pants, the rope straining and tugging under his agile wrist, “You could stop him watching, if you so chose.” Hannibal didn’t need to look at the knife to underline the meaning of his words.

  
Will glanced at Jack, swallowing thickly as his mind started to piece together all the ways he could kill his boss. It wasn't as if he hadn't ever thought about it, he _had_ quite often, it the moral of it. Honestly, morals here were life and death, or honor and humility. Jack was going to die by Hannibal's hand one way or another-- Will didn't have to with him.

 

Breathing getting shallower as the ropes tightened, Will moved his thoughts back to the real task at hand, only to find he was far too aroused to be angry.

 

“How will you kill me? Fuck me on the table like a third course and then gut me, leave me to die?”

 

How he got here to begin with was not lost to Will; being fucked and then knocked out, naked, was far from endearing.

 

If they’re normal people, and yet Will knew that, too, they are not.

 

Hannibal gazed up at Will as his long, elegant fingers wrapped around the younger man’s velvety shaft and stroked in a lazy rhythm. His other hand reached up and brushed over the ropes binding Will’s thighs and chest.  
  
“Hm nothing so crass. You, dear boy, are a dish to be savored and honored.” He punctuated the last two words with firm tugs.  
  
Hannibal looked over at a small set of tools and medical supplies, bone saw included, laid out on the oak side table before turning back to look up at Will, “I would start with your mind. Leave you tied up, just as you are and crack open the bone arena of your skull and serve it in such a way that even you would get a chance to delight in the taste of something so dark and debauched.” Hannibal’s breaths came in shorter, shallower pants now, his tongue falling slack in his mouth as almond eyes blinked slow with want.  
  
The pad of Hannibal’s thumb found the slit in the head of Will’s throbbing head and smeared through the beads of pre-cum there. “I do, however believe, there are better ways to celebrate the the coming of a new year, don’t you, Will?” Hannibal squeezed around his shaft and stroked down harder as he looped his thumb under the ropes and tugged.

 

Will head lolled back against the chair as Hannibal stroked him, with far more grace and patience than the last time, when they were feared to be caught, but here they had nothing but a clock ticking down the minutes until fireworks. Will wondered if Hannibal would make him wait it out, keep him up and going until then with no release.

 

He might, of course, should Will do as asked.

 

“You’d have to untie to let me kill him,” Will huffed out, trying not to let the feeling of Hannibal’s expert hand distract him from the task at hand.

 

So to speak.

 

Hannibal kept stroking at a painfully slow pace as he leaned up and tugged the rope around Will’s chest with his teeth, letting the coarse fibers brush through his shirt and over his peaked nipples. “I would. Well, I would have to untie enough of you. But should you enjoy your binds, I am more than happy to oblige once your task is complete.” With a quick, hard tug Hannibal moved Will’s shaft up against the ropes. Loosening his fingers he let the hemp glance the throbbing vein of his cock as he caressed the underside of the hard flesh there. “Alternatively, I could bring Jack to you and you could kill him bound just as perfectly as you are now.” Hannibal’s glow with a warm hunger that pulses through to the tips of his fingers as they work.

 

Heart racing, Will tensed against the ropes, though a low moan escaped his throat, pain and pleasure coming all at once, and the need to get Jack’s eyes off him like that. He swallowed, and moved his hand to down the bit of champagne left and dropped the glass at his feet, near Hannibal.  
  
“Give me the knife…”

 

Hannibal smiled as he stands, having known without a doubt that Will would pick up the knife. He smoothed down his wrinkled suit pants and adjusted his vest before reaching over and handing Will the knife. He stayed within striking distance, leaving Will _that_ option, too.

 

Hannibal was dangerous and hard to maneuver, even for someone with Will’s empathy, it didn’t allow for him to be able to know his movements. Will took up the knife and nodded to Jack, too far for him to properly gut, to let him out of his misery fast and easy. But maybe that was the point here. Nothing was fast and easy, unlike Will seemed to be with Hannibal.

 

“Should I throw it at him and hope for the best?”

 

Hannibal leaned forward to whisper against Will’s neck, both hands resting on the chair, shoulders rolled forward, “If you wish to stay bound, let me bring your present to you.” his tone knowing and almost coy. Meeting Will’s gaze again, his eyes glowed bright crimson in the candle light.

 

Did Will want to stay bound? Not really. He had the knife after all, and he could just cut himself free and take hold of this situation. Actually, that was a good idea. Will gripped the knife and slide it through his restraints, under and up, cutting them clean off and then the ones at his ankles. Hethen pressed the tip into Hannibal's neck, gazing up at him from where he leaned over him.

 

There was no turning back from here.

 

He slid his pants shut the best he could, for now, no reason to have his dick flopping out during a perfectly good _murder_.

 

Fuck, a murder. Was he really going to--

 

\--Yes, yes he was.

 

Will had had enough of Jack Crawford to last a lifetime, and enough Thanksgiving and Christmas work to know that he was treated like chewed up bubble gum on the bottom of Jack's shoe.

 

"Pardon me," Will said, evenly, and pushed Hannibal out of the way.

 

A few strides and Will was behind Jack, who was sputtering and green grilled from his dinner.

 

"Graham, you don't... you can't-" Jack finally sputtered out, the first words all evening, and he was _begging_.

 

"Can't I, Jack?" Will asked, leaning his lips against the other man's ear, knife against his throat, slowly digging into his skin.The rush of power over Jack made Will near drunk feeling, and  with one swift movement, Will cut, slicing his jugular.

 

Hannibal didn’t pull away from the knife as it pressed there, rather his closed his eyes and groaned a deep feral down - almost inaudible. But when asked, he stepped back to grant Will his freedom.  
  
Staying exactly where he stood Hannibal watched, hands clasped in front, with intense curiosity and heated passion. His expression remained cool but his eyes glistened and his hands grew tense.  
  
Watching Will move into the murder scene and position himself for the kill it was clear he was a natural. For all the dark and violent things he saw and knew, Will had repressed the simple fact that he saw and knew those things _because_ he was a dark and violent thing. But where Hannibal made killing elegant and artful, Will made killing something wicked, beautiful and sensual. The rush of power rolled off him in waves, waves that rocked Hannibal right to the core and woke a need far more consuming, possessive and intense than before.  
  
Hannibal wondered if either he or Will would survive the night.

 

Will caught Hannibal's look, and the fading erection he had only seemed to get hard again. Lust had bloomed where violence fell, and it was only time until one of them took it out on the other, in more ways than just a broke glass to the thigh.

 

This was it, he was in it deep now, he realized as he watched Jack sputter and gurgle his last dying words, and then fall over into the table, bleeding out all over his place setting

 

"What's for dessert, _Santa_?"

 

Hannibal watched as Jack bled out, brilliant crimson melting to black over the table and on to the floor. Hannibal’s lust-blown eyes narrowed as he licked his lips and sucked his tongue. He looked at the bloody knife in Will’s hand and then back up to meet the oceanic blue of his eyes and merely raised an eyebrow. “I would say that decision is literally in your hands, wouldn’t you, Will?” His tone was verging on acerbic but his heart was pounding fast in his chest, his breath came in ragged pants and his pants strained around his throbbing erection.

 

Bloody fingers dropped the knife to the floor, and Will crawled over the table, rudely, back to Hannibal, pushing pieces of fine china off as he went. Darkness clouded him as he got closer to the cannibal, empathy had a funny way of working, but he had a feeling this wasn't Hannibal's he was seeing clearly.

 

At least not _all_ his.

 

"How long have we got?"

 

Hannibal looked over his shoulder at the clock and then back at Will who was crawling across the table drenched in blood, eyes hooded with a strange, dark lust that left Hannibal feeling like the prey, “About half an hour.”

 

The mild mannered, surly mall cop had become rabid wolf within the blink of an eye, and it was wonderous.  
  
Hannibal lifted his chin and started to unbutton his shirt as he found swallowing increasingly difficult, the air swam around him thick with death and salaciousness.

 

Will dropped off the table just in front of Hannibal, and continued with the buttons of his shirt for him. Off went the tie, vest and shirt pushed off Hannibal's shoulders. The brunet left hefty, bloody handprints all over Hannibal's perfectly crafted clothes as he went.

 

“That's not too much longer. You owe me fireworks.”

 

Hannibal watched with thinly veiled amusement as the brunet worked to strip him and paint him in long, vivid streaks of murder across his strapping chest, “My, what a _terrible_ debt I have incurred. And here I thought perhaps you owed me fireworks in thanks for your present.”

 

Hannibal caught Will’s chin between his powerful fingers and thumb as he started walking him back towards the dining table that was still littered with deadly carnage. He walked until Will’s thighs were crushed against the polished mahogany and blood-wet silk cloth. “I must say, murder becomes you in the most… breathtaking fashion, Mr Graham.”

 

With one splayed hand over Will’s chest, Hannibal lowered him back onto the table and stood over him, gaze unbroken and unwavering. With one powerful arm he lifted him off the table by his shirt font, ripped the buttons clean off and dropped him flat on his back with a small thud.

Hannibal leaned over Will, one hand pressed into a pool of blood there as he reached down and tore open the younger man’s pants, “Strip,” he ordered before he turned with balletic grace, abs flexed and twisting, to retrieve an ice cold bottle of champagne from the small, silver bucket.

 

Saying nothing to Hannibal's quip, he let himself be moved, shirt removed, and then dropped down to the table. It all happened so quickly he barely heard the words come from Hannibal's mouth and stared at him dazed for a moment before he  stripped right out of the nice trousers he'd been dressed in before waking that evening.

 

Hannibal was dangerous, but Will found himself attracted to the darkness in him, as his own started to breathe through the charade of light he'd tried to project. A glance back at Jack was a thorough reminder that hiding within himself couldn't happen anymore. He was in the thick of it.

 

Hannibal was still clothed in dress pants as he stood in front of Will where the younger man was laid out, spread naked and bloody on the table. A perfect feast of lean muscle under caramel-taut skin. Stepping forward with one thunderous kick, Hannibal spread Will’s legs apart so he was exposed thoroughly and lewdly, his perfect cock throbbing against the hardness of his abdomen and the thin trail of hair there. The groans Hannibal had been suppressing pushed over and past his lips as he crawled over Will to catch him in a devouring kiss, the flat of his hand palming down his sleek flank and stopping at the angle of his hip.  
  
Whilst the younger man was distracted Hannibal managed to grab the ropes from the chair behind and loop two quick knots over each of Will’s wrists, tethering him again, leaving him stretched out over the table with all of his lithe muscles on display as he struggled. “What _have_ you gotten yourself into?” Hannibal purred against Will’s trembling neck. Smoothing a hand down over the younger man’s hip and across his groin it was clear that as much as his mind fought it, darkness and danger brought the best out of him.

 

Hannibal kissed apart Will’s soft, pink lips and wound his tongue his before sucking down on the tender, wet muscle. The broad expanse of his hand wrapped around Will’s cock, both now accentuated in streaks of fresh red. He bit Will’s ear lobe and whispered “Filthy,” as he pulled away and left him struggling there.  
  
The bottle of Dom Perignon was a sharp cold in his hands as he ripped off the foil and started to twist and work the cork, gaze locked with the bound man exposed and hard in a pool of blood on his table.  
  
Just as soon as he had gotten himself out of being bound, Will was in them again, hands above his head, tied to something, he wasn't sure yet, but it hardly mattered with the way Hannibal fondled and teased, and kissed him like he was the best dessert money could buy. It was disgusting, but Will wouldn't lie, he _wanted_ it.

 

He groaned as Hannibal slipped away again, watching him with dark, lust filled eyes, barely a hint of blue left there. Things like 'you promised' crossed his mind to say, but he thought better of it, faith the man would not eat him, at least not _yet_.

 

Hannibal worked the cork until it burst free with a loud pop and a spurt of white bubbles washed over his knuckles. He tipped one, crystal champagne flute slightly and filled it before pouring another just the same. Once both were set aside along side the bottle Hannibal moved with the sudden and threatening movements of a jungle cat to push his fingers into Will’s mouth, “Suck.” He waited for Will’s tongue to start lapping, “Such rare and delicate liquids should _never_  be wasted.” Hannibal’s fiery amber gaze stayed focused on Will’s mouth.

 

Will never let his eyes leave Hannibal's as his lathed his hot tongue against his fingers, lewd and slow, making a long show of it as the other man watched. He sucked hard, and then bit at Hannibal flesh there his his mouth, enough to punch, maybe even draw a little blood.

 

Hannibal’s rumbling moans switched into a growl at the bite. Tender fingers that were roaming over peaked nipples and drawn out abs turn to scratch long red lines across taut flesh as he leaned in to suck the blood from Will’s lip - but not before an all too pleased smile ghosts across his lips. Hannibal is more than thrilled with the dark sparks of passion Will is starting to display.

Sucking and dragging on Will’s lower lip, Hannibal reached for the champagne glass. He took a quick sip of the freezing, effervescent liquid and let the soft taste of musky, ripe pear flow into Will’s mouth with a closing fizz.  
  
Returning to standing, Hannibal takes another _long_ sip and then sinks to his knees, wide shoulders shoving Will’s thighs apart before pushing the velvet shaft of Will’s cock over his lips and into an ice-cold bath of exotic bubbles that swirl around his length. He simply holds his mouth there, letting Will writhe under the shock of it.

 

A swear on Will’s tongue never made it to the point of escaping as the moan rendered itself there instead, hips writhing up into Hannibal's cool, wet, bubbling mouth. It was a shock to his system that nearly made him come right there, if not for the freezing keeping him perfectly in check.

 

"Fuck-" he finally let loose in a low grown, wrists pulling on his restraints roughly, teeth gritted as he leaned up to watch the man between his thighs. Sandy grey hair was hanging down between muscular shoulders and an elegantly curved neck.

 

As Hannibal drank down the smooth, cool liquid, his cheeks hollowed with a hard suck over Will’s twitching cock, drawing out beads of pre-cum and profanities alike. He repeated the process over and over until he is sure the younger man is close to blowing. He can feel him struggling against the restraints - torn between wanting freedom and greater restraint. One doesn’t need to be an empath to tell that.  
  
Hannibal set the glass down again and stepped far back from the table, forcing Will to lean up higher and pull harder on his restraints to watch him as he started to undo his trousers. He slid them down to reveal Vitruvian legs that move with unparalleled grace as he folded his trousers over the back of a chair and then slipped off his boxer shorts.

 

Perhaps a tad prematurely, fireworks start to blow in shades of pink and white in the distance as seen over Hannibal’s shoulder, through the window in the distance. Crossing the room in neat strides Hannibal climbed up on the table and straddled Will’s narrow hips with thickly muscled thighs. Sliding cock against cock Hannibal murmured under Will’s jaw, “Are you ready to bring in the new year, William?” as he spoke, he positioned Will’s champagne wet cock against his own, tight hole offering him a gift Santa has never once given before.

 

The surreality of the whole situation seems like a dream, caught in a fog of dumb-like fog, and reality, which made Will really want to reach out and ground himself in Hannibal's hair, to tug on _something_ that would give him a reality check, sure he'd wake at any moment from this. Unfortunately, Hannibal had no such desire to let Will have that much control, despite the way he was teasing the brunet's cock with his perfectly tight hole. Will was sure Hannibal never intended for him to have _any_ real control, this had been in his plans all along.

 

"Yes," he said, simply, panting out a breath, and then held it, waiting.

 

Hannibal smiled and dragged and open mouth kiss down Will’s throat, “Yes, what?” he ground his hole down just enough for the tip of Will’s cock to feel the beginnings of the breach, pre-cum smoothing the way.

 

"I'm ready. I want it. I want _you_ ," Will said, not nearly one to beg, but he is also turned on he's desperate to get _inside_ Hannibal.

 

He groaned, and put his heels on the table, knees raising a little to hold Hannibal there, and pressed his hips up.

 

“Santa needs the magic word, _William.”_ Hannibal’s hips circle, taking the swollen tip with them. While Will’s words delight Hannibal in ways he could not have predicted, ways that lead to a strange fluttering and scratching of emotion in his chest - he is not a man who can forgo manners no matter how _rude_ the situation may be.

 

“ _Please,_ ” Will let the word escape his mouth with ease, no begging, just _need_. His dark curls were starting to stick, slick with sweat and blood against his sun tanned skin, hands in tight, calloused fists against the ropes.

 

Just as easy as the word slipped over Will’s lips, Hannibal sank his firm ass down on to Will’s perfect cock, grunting out a low groan as he did. Will’s swollen tip flicked over the rim breaching his velvet heat while his thick shaft followed through stretching and filling Hannibal completely. The initial burn of pain quickly bloomed into a pleasurable throb as he used the strength of his forearms to thrust himself up and down, over and over and over on to Will’s length. His head fell forward, hair in his eyes as he rolled his ass down against Will’s hips to position himself _just so_ , the pounding now landing firmly over that ribbed bundle of nerves that sent shocks of bliss through his prostate and cock when hit.  
  
“Good boy,” he murmured as a quick heat pricked his skin and started to build in his core. The pound of his pulse in his ears matched that of Will’s cock between his legs, his breath racing at an equal rate. Everything stank of blood and sweat and food. The stuff of a cannibal’s dreams.

 

Looking back up, Hannibal’s gaze softened as it fell on Will. He brushed a gentle hand through his curls and kissed him, closed lipped and tender as his ass was brutalized below, the sound of skin slapping and ropes yawning and twisting filling the room. In that moment he wondered if love could possibly extend beyond the cut of a knife - whether Will could meet his darkness with staying power and acceptance of not only Hannibal, but what Hannibal had shown Will of himself.

 

Knees bent, Will used the leverage to drive up into Hannibal every time he came down over his stiff cock, mouth slackened at the feel, and then tensed at the jaw as he focused on the blooming heat in his spine, and the pleasure radiating off of Hannibal. Eyes meeting in the heat of lust, Will kissed his captor, soft and slow, as tender as they could be for a brief moment as they shared breath, and time seemed to still for a that moment, and then broke again, shattering with the sound of his own hips  beating Hannibal's ass. He realized he was tugging on the ropes hard enough to bleed his wrists, hips thrusting up into the other man, desperate to find that spot to make him come undone just as he had done to Will over Santa's velvety chair.

 

With the next kiss, he bit at Hannibal's mouth, his lips, his tongue, anything he could get, making up for a lack of fingers where they wanted to be, drawing out blood in coppery trickles into his own mouth.

 

Hannibal groaned out something dark and feral as he was bit, the taste of blood filling his mouth. His eyes flashed wide and locked with Will’s, shuddering as sparks of an erotic charge shot up the charts of his spine.  Long toes curled and found purchase against the table as his knees swayed against the unforgiving wood. Sweat dripped down down from his brow as he bit back against Will’s kiss swollen lips, strong hands now tugging at chocolate curls. With Will’s throat arched back, creamy skin and lines of muscles and veins were exposed, Hannibal bit down and let loose a guttural sound as Will’s ferric-sweet blood filled his mouth and he drove his ass down even harder onto Will’s throbbing shaft. He hissed and swore in a hundred different languages as a thin line of blood ran down Will’s neck and the heat building in his core started to crest into something more blinding.  
  
Panting with feral need now, Will felt the bloom of heat course through his spine, and spread down his lower back and thighs, daring to boil over the edge, and send him into a frenzy. He sucked the blood from his lips, licking them as he groaned, watching Hannibal lose himself, impaling his beautiful dancer's body over his cock with long and languid movements. God, he'd die happy if this is where it all ended, but part of him wanted to do it more.

 

"Hannibal-" he groaned, arching up into his ass, sweat collecting on the table, dripping from his naked back, glistening against his smooth chest. He thrust up, connecting and reconnecting, again and again, until he finally couldn't stave off the orgasm any longer.

 

Hannibal smoothed up the exquisite arch of Will’s neck and the severe cut of his jaw with an open mouth kiss until lips brushed over lips again, “Will…” was all he breathed into the younger man’s mouth as he came apart completely above him. Hannibal was totally overcome with the perfectly obscene way Will moved and smelled and tasted and touched. It was if this man were made for him - if Hannibal were to believe in such things as fate.  
  
The slick, full feeling of Will’s cock rocking inside him too much to bare. Hannibal’s eyes rolled back, flickers of white blurring behind them as his whole body seems to glow hot, burning away all pretense and leaving only raw feelings exposed. In one fluid movement, Hannibal arched back fully, muscle strapped chest stretched wide, shoulder blades touching and hard planes of muscle flexing right down to the narrow V of his hips - hips that spasmed as thick strands of white sputtered and blew over Will’s writhing chest. The terrible roar that exploded with his completion was only matched by the distant cracking of fireworks exploding in the night sky.

 

Panted breaths exploded from Will's lungs as Hannibal came, hot and beautifully all over his chest, sending his own last bit of control over the cliff, head first. His body spasmed as filled Hannibal completely, hips bucking and rolling, until finally he staved to a stop, wrists bleeding into the table top, still bound, and rope burned.

 

Hannibal was sight to behold, ricocheted gleams of light from fireworks glancing off his skin, sweaty and glistening. Will would have licked it if he could, instead he dropped his head against the table, huffing as he caught his breath, legs slack now, body lithe and relaxed. Will's gaze lingered on Hannibal a bit longer, thoughts of kinship and belonging crossing his mind, fluttering his heart unexpectedly.

 

"Happy New Year, Hannibal."

 

As Hannibal leaned back, head canted to the side and resting on bulging shoulder, he looked over his bound, sweaty, cum covered lover. Will was perfect, angelic even, in the way his wide blue eyes blinked up at him as his lightly muscled body tensed and writhed with an erotic innocence. But all the while, Hannibal knew that flowing in those veins and down into the rough hands tethered there, was the lambent darkness of a killer - an echo of himself.

 

It was clear in that moment that Will was, kindred, dear, maybe even love. The idea shocked him and drew him in all at once. Heart and mind raced to keep ahead of each other but both failed, instead Hannibal surrendered and trusted in what he knew best - the carnal.

 

Wiping a long, elegant finger through his cum, he pasted silky-white over soft, pink lips and kissed down into Will, “Happy New Year, Will.”

 


End file.
